


Hate Me The Way I Love/Hate You

by solluxisaripeprick



Category: Homestuck
Genre: BPD feels, Dysfunctional Relationship, Humanstuck, M/M, Not ever actually done just thought of, Suicidal Thoughts, self harm mentions, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-21
Updated: 2015-06-21
Packaged: 2018-04-05 09:46:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4175244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solluxisaripeprick/pseuds/solluxisaripeprick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your highs differentiated from pure bliss to prideful anger to letting yourself go. Your lows were always the same, self-deprecation flooded your mind and you stayed holed up in you room, never wanting to be whole again, just empty. But he was your anchor, the one who held you down straight in the middle. He was annoying yet lovable, careless but caring, he was peace.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	Hate Me The Way I Love/Hate You

His hands trailed down your arms, making its way down to your hands. He clasped them for a moment, looking straight into your eyes. His expression was that of pity, you could not see that for you continued to stay stubborn and look at the ground, but you could sense it. And you hated that, but you loved him for doing this. Loved the fact that he was feeding you the right words, the right feelings, the feelings that made you whole. His hands went back up, stroking strands of your dark brown hair before cupping your face and planting a small kiss on your lips. You smiled slightly, trying to stop the tears that started to well up in your eyes. There was an overwhelming happiness, an acceptance. He whispered sweet nothings into your ears, sometimes listing out your pros outloud. While negative thoughts often nagged at you no matter what, his voice had a temporary drowning effect. These were the days where you loved him for who he was and hated yourself for those same reasons. But you craved for the attention he gave you, he made you love you once again, even for a small moment. It was a selfish act, but you needed it to live. You needed-for a second- to like some part of you.

Your nails punctured your palm, you’ve been clenching them for so long you can’t remember when it happened. Like the pain in your palms was always there, the indents on them branding them and the pain was searing enough to make it feel like a hot iron. This symbolized anger, and you were practically engulfed in it. Its dark tendrils grabbing at your legs, trailing up to your face as if to mind control. To brainwash you so you could forget every good thing in the world. You begged for hate and he would give it to you. Not because he wanted to, simply because he had to. You’d rack your nails at your eyes, pulled your hairs as if you were trying to take this anger out of you so you can _remember_. Remember everything he’s done for you but you couldn’t, rage refused. You shouted everything you hated about him, loudly saying every single one of his flaws and indulged in the pride it gave you. You smirked, grinned, held your chin up high yet you still shook, faltered, with your face soaking wet with tears. You sacrificed your own morality for a taste of happiness and he volunteered to be the stone wall you’d punch your negative thoughts at until the walls were covered in blood of either yours or his. These were the days you hated him for everything he’s done and love you for everything he couldn’t be. This was your high, your cloud nine. Except this cloud burned everything it touches it, and you were the only one who could take the heat. You were the one who lived, the one who loved it.

On both occasions you were filled with guilt. You’d wake up and reassess what you seemed to accomplish with your own self-hate or anger. Your head would swish around in anxiety and your heart would take a dive into the deep end. You worried he’d leave you, list the reasons why he would instead of comforting yourself with why he wouldn’t. You were too clingy, too aggressive. You talked too much, invaded his personal space. You didn’t give him time to relax, to regain energy from social interaction. Everything was about you, never him. You never thought about what he’d want, whether he even wanted to talk to you at the moment. You’d shut yourself up, sit inside your room and sulk. Bottle up your emotions, say you were exhausted, too exhausted to talk or to argue. You kept yourself hidden as you tried to occupy yourself with something else.

You were possessive, manipulative, obsessive. You laughed, these flaws indicated an abuser and you guessed that was true. Often times you’d ask yourself whether or not something you said was manipulative. Worry that your want to vent only played with his emotions, made him want to pity you for your worthlessness. And while you felt guilty, these were the times when guilt didn’t rest at the pit of your stomach. You needed that help so you pushed his feelings aside. You wanted to be pampered, to be treated as royalty. And if that was selfish, then at this point in time you didn’t care, you needed to feel right again. You needed his attention at all times. You worried that if he didn’t talk to you for a period of time you did something wrong that made him hate you. Days without communication made you anxious, and you’d fear for the day he would make his appearance. Your head continued to spin and you picked at your lip, you worried that it would be the day he decided to end it all. And when he said he was just spending time with a friend, jealousy lit up in your mind. It burned every rational thought, like how even you had your own friends to spend time with, how not everything dealing with him had to be about you. But everything had to about you. If not you felt less important, not someone he loved the most. Those were the times when you’d have to ask if you’re still dating, if he still loved you. Those were the times you gave all of yourself to him yet he was still yours in every way.

Sometimes you would just disregard him as a whole. Forget that he was there, that he existed. Much like your never-ending anger highs, you couldn’t seem to remember what good things he did for you. Instead he was just a specter floating about your shared house, not really there for a reason. Just there. Another forgotten contact on your phone. An acquaintance you couldn’t quite remember meeting. When he tried to grab your attention it was just an “Oh.” Like you didn’t expect him to try nor did you want him to. It ended up with you supposing you could talk to him and wondering what he could want from you. In the end, you’d say were busy and couldn’t spend another second wasting your time with him. It might have been bitter, at this point you couldn’t tell anymore. You already felt yourself zoning out and leaving this world. In truth, you weren’t busy do anything. All you could find yourself doing was being sprawled about on the floor, the couch, your bed staring at the ceiling. You counted the cracks, imagined the bumps to be stars, you tried to think of them as scars. Your scars. Always there, haunting you, reminding you of your failures. And that was when the static took you and you were gone.

Your self-worth was always changing, not even you could tell what was going on with your emotions anymore. While your happiness lasted for hours, your self-hatred lasted for weeks. Your highs differentiated from pure bliss to prideful anger to letting yourself go. Your lows were always the same, self-deprecation flooded your mind and you stayed holed up in you room, never wanting to be whole again, just empty. But he was your anchor, the one who held you down straight in the middle. He was annoying yet lovable, careless but caring, he was peace. He stilled you shaky movements, held you close and tight so you couldn’t escape from his arms and back into chaos. You were content, uncharacteristically quiet. There were too many thoughts racing around your head to speak. You didn’t want to speak. Didn’t want to ruin the moment. Didn’t want to say the wrong words to make him leave you.  

Impulse control was a machine that constantly lost its gears. It was a machine that would stop working for a couple of minutes and during that short time you destroyed everything in your path. You’d search the whole house for a pair of scissors, then grab fabric for you to cut into tiny pieces. You tore tablecloths and cut bottoms of curtains, cut your own hair and clothing. But never yourself, you were too scared. You didn’t want him to see that part of you, so you kept the scissors as far as possible from your arms. Made sure your hands never reached the other side in fear you’d hurt yourself without knowing. You would put on a hoodie and walk outside with a wallet full of money. You were saving it for something, but at this moment you couldn’t remember what it was. Now was the time to waste money and regret later after you crashed onto the couch feeling worthless. You bought everything imaginable, telling yourself it would be useful at some point in time when you knew it wouldn’t. You spent it on junk food, bought a few movies before your wallet was finally empty as you were. You quickly returned home with bags of trinkets you’d have to hide from Sollux once you headed inside. You knew he’d get mad at you if he found out you were spending your money on useless things again. He was the only one who could keep your impulses in check after all. But as of now, he wasn’t here and that left you to go haywire. He would already see the mess you made around the house, but he could forgive you for that. That was the only thing you were sure of out of all this. Next you would pass out from all the sugar you ate while binge watching all the movies you bought. You’d wake up the next morning with a blanket around you, the TV off, and everything was back in order again.

And just like that he vanished.

And boy, were you never able to pick yourself back up again.

  
  
  



End file.
